HauntingAdeline {1}

C15

The Manipulator

I ’m completely immobilized beneath his stare. I can only imagine the look on
my face when I see him standing there, waiting for me.
The sconces behind my bed are lit, offering dim lighting. Enough for me to get
a clear view of him. He’s clad in all black. Leather boots, jeans that wrap tightly
around broad thighs, and a matching hoodie that looks a size too small with the
way he fills it out.
Still, I can’t see much of his face—that damn hood.
My tongue darts out, wetting my dry lips.
“Take off your hood,” I say, a slight tremor in my voice. He doesn’t. Nor does
he speak.
Anger begins to build beneath the fear.
“You wanted me to come find you, kitty cat. I did. So take off your fucking
hood and show me your face,” I demand, my voice rising alongside my anger.
A sinful smirk tugs at his lips when he hears his new nickname. He thinks this
is a game of cat and mouse. If he wants to debase me with a nickname, it’s only
fair I return the favor.
Slowly, he reaches up and slides the hood off his head, the knife glinting as if
to mock me. I have my own knife, too.
Any triumph I felt over my little jab dissipates like butter in a hot skillet.
And all the fear I’ve been feeling triples. His face is… unlike anything I’ve
seen. But that’s the thing—I have seen him before. The mismatched eyes give
him away.
In the bookstore, I only saw portions of his face. At the time, he seemed mildly
attractive. But now that I see those pieces as a whole, he’s devastating.
His right eye darker than the midnight sky, and the other the exact opposite.
His left eye is so bleached of color, it’s nearly white. The scar starting from the
middle of his forehead, slashing straight down through his white eye and to the
middle of his cheek, is something I haven’t been able to forget since I saw him in
the bookstore.
Despite the ugly scar, it only serves to heighten his utter beauty. A jawline so
sharp, he could cut diamonds with it. A straight, aristocratic nose. Full lips. And  short black hair, just long enough to run your hands through.
This is wrong. So wrong.
I shouldn’t be attracted to a stalker.
His presence is so overwhelming, it feels as if he’s ten feet tall with a shadow
crawling up the ceiling, slithering toward me. This room feels tiny with him in it.
I feel tiny with him in it.
He takes a step toward me, a hint of that smirk remaining on his face—just the
slightest curl in his lips.
I take a step back. Finally, my instincts aren’t completely jacked sideways, and
I make my first smart move of the night.
“Cat got your tongue, little mouse?”
Briefly, I close my eyes. His voice washes over me, leaving goosebumps in its
wake. The sound is as deep as his black eye.
I swallow again, nearly choking on the very muscle. It feels like my tongue has
swollen to double its size.
“What do you want from me?” I choke out.
He prowls towards me. My spine tightens, and despite the gallons of fear
pumping through my heart valves, I stay still. When he gets close enough, I’ll
stab him.
Aim for the throat, Addie.
My eyes lock with his, and all thought escapes me. He presses the entirety of
his body against mine. No shame. No shyness. No, let me buy you a drink first
before I press my man pecs into you.
The boldness of it has me nearly biting my tongue in surprise.
It takes several seconds for my body to unlock. Before I can think about what
I’m doing, I swing my knife towards him, but meet resistance when I attempt to
lift it.
I look down in confusion, just to see his bare hand wrapped around the blade.
Blood pools in his hand, a small trail heading straight towards my own.
I gasp, my eyes widening and snapping back to his. Not a single iota of pain
shines in his eyes. Not even a glimmer.
He jerks on the blade once, ripping it from my weak hold, blindly tossing it
behind him.
The knife clatters loudly against something before toppling to the floor, the
sound reverberating in the otherwise quiet room. Nothing but my heavy panting
breaks the static of silence surrounding us. His presence is a vortex, steadily
depleting the oxygen from the room—and even from my brain.
Because I cannot think straight with his body so close to mine. With the fear
coiled tightly around me, the force of it turning my body to stone. I’m useless.